


take my hand (cause we are more than friends)

by hipstershrek



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Engineer!Mark, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Songfic, Strangers to Lovers, nonlinear story, smut etc etc, smut isn't explicit, so no order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:16:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9083935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipstershrek/pseuds/hipstershrek
Summary: have you ever seen somebody, a fleeting glance, maybe a brush of an arm, and suddenly they are gone, and you've been thrown off balance forevermore, your subconscious knowing that you'll never see them again but your intestines winding up in desperation to find them? jack has.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this story isn't in any order yo
> 
> also, quick summary: basically jack sees mark on a subway and makes it his mission to find him
> 
> (i've only been to nyc once sorry abt any inaccuracies. also mark/jack, if you're reading this enjoy the ride big boys x)

42nd Street station was always too crowded, and to somebody who wasn't a native New Yorker, it could get a little bit asphyxiating. 

Jack pushed his way through the crowds of people. He'd waited for a subway for about 10 minutes, and he wanted out of the cramped corner of the station he'd been inhabiting. It was always hard to get used to a big move, and the Ireland to New York transition had been harder than anything for him. It's not that he didn't enjoy the skyscrapers and winding alleyways, it's just that it wasn't really his style.

He got on the subway. It was your everyday afternoon. A baby was screaming further down in the carriage. A woman was talking very loudly on the phone next to him. Life went on.

Jack angled himself so that he was resting against the doors, looking outwards into the sea of people, just making their way home, trying to not get lost in the concrete sea he'd decided to call home. You couldn't step smoothly from land into a deep, deep sea, could you? That's what it was like for Jack; he'd clung to his little zone in Ireland where he knew everyone, and now he'd made the plunge into the deep end of the population spectrum. 

The repetitive noise of the carriage moving went on and on and on until they dulled down into a beat that made Jack feel drowsy. The warm air and bustle of people around him didn't make him feel any more awake, either. His guard was down when he saw _him_.

Red hair, headphones, average clothes. Slightly muscular. Sitting tamely next to the door Jack would walk through when he, sadly, had to get off. It's happened to most of us, those everyday people who take our breath away, and take our lungs away with it so that we can't take it back, a living leaf on a dead plant. Pretty.

Every hadn't dulled down for Jack, it had livened up, he was alive, _alive_!

~

They were walking Chica through Central Park, and it was one of the finer autumns the city had seen in a few years. Jack's hair dye was fading due to exposure to wind (and sometimes exposed to hard pulling) and Mark had just redyed his a few weeks before. The wind wasn't strong enough to wiggle its way into their coats, but it was strong enough to brush their fringes off their faces and make their eyes water. The autumn wasn't important, because Mark had a question, and the question was wiggling its way out of his coat and into the brisk air like an angry hornet.

"Will you move in with me?"

Jack sold his apartment. 

~

Jack's mother had been calling him daily ever since he'd moved to NYC. It was to be expected. She'd always been a clingy woman, the type of woman who'd hide in the cargo of a plane if it meant she'd be with her children, but Jack hadn't realised how much he'd miss her until he'd actually left. It was always like that, though.

It was a stupid thing to ask your son, especially as he'd just moved abroad, but to a woman who'd been raised in a Catholic country, there was only one thing that men were put on this planet for, and whatever he'd been expecting, it really wasn't "Met any special girls?".

He told her. He told her that girls weren't his interest, and that when he went to school and when he dated girls, he'd always been set up by the guys he wanted to get with. It was a taboo subject most of the time, and so he'd never brought it up; how can you tell your mother that your best friend as a teenager was only your friend because you wanted to fuck him and he didn't realise? He valued stereotypical masculinity over himself, most of the time, and it'd never been sometime he could pinpoint. And his mother was happy that he'd told her, and she went back to questioning him about his apartment, and the people, and his search for a job. Jack didn't stop thinking about the question though. Why hadn't he met somebody special? He wasn't unattractive by any standard. Was it his personality? His body? Jack scrambled mentally for a possible turnoff, before deciding to forget about the whole thing.

He didn't.

~

Jack lowered himself down into Mark's lap, goosebumps rippling out on the areas where their skin met. Intimacy had never been an issue, and it was at the peak of such personal moments that Jack remembered that if he had gotten to the subway a few minutes late, decided to walk home, maybe gotten a taxi, then he wouldn't be riding the love of his life in their shared apartment while the sun went down on New York City.

Jack shivered at the thought. His hands moved upwards, clenching Mark's steady arms as he lifted himself back up, before dropping back down again with a groan. Mark's hands grabbed at his hips, fingers digging in, while he chuckled huskily under his breath, the arousal straining his throat. This time wasn't kinky. It was two people trying to get closer, closer, _closer_. It was shameful, really, that they could be so tender with each other, that they could fuck each other like they were playing with hollow glass statues, when Jack still had handprints on the meaty junction where his thigh met his ass, and when Mark shuddered every time the raw scratches left on his back brushed against anything, disturbing the scabbing process and reminding him of who made him.

They stayed like that for a while, Jack gyrating himself up and down, until eventually they both let go and fell down through their bed into another dimension, one where Jack and Mark could stay warm and content in bed post-orgasm and never have to face the world again. Until the next morning, when Mark's alarm would go off at 6:45am and he'd wake up and get the bus to his engineering job and Jack would try to clutch at a warm body that wasn't there.

~

Jack was still in a strangely invigorating daze when he got off the subway. It wasn't the painful kind, like when you've been knocked out and you're coming back to life and you can feel the pain trickling back into your face and your broken jaw. No, no, it was the kind of daze like when you've woken up out of both sleep and the drowsy state you were in just after sleep and you can smell your breakfast being cooked and you can hear the mailman and the birds singing and you known you've got it SO good.

They'd touched. Slightly. Just a hand-to-hand on bag thing. Jack had to walk past him to get off at his stop, and the man's shapely, tan fingers had touched him _electric_ before simply brushing across his bag and falling back to where they'd been before. You touch people on public transport. Such is life. Right?

Come to think of it, Jack needed to check his bag. Whenever he was out he'd put his phone in the front pocket, a thing he'd learned from his mother; she was always so scared of things falling out of her jacket pockets, and it'd brushed off on him. There was always a piece of Ireland in him wherever he went, he'd grown to think.

As he probed through his bag pocket, his fingers brushed against something smooth and unfamiliar. He pulled it out. It was a business card.

_Iplier Industries_

_For all your engineering needs_

And then a number.

**Author's Note:**

> song for this fic is jenny by studio killers


End file.
